


Asphalt Jungle

by Huffybearchild, Nomanoah



Category: LA Noire
Genre: 1940's, Archie Colmyer - Freeform, Cole Phelps - Freeform, Detectives, Drugs, Enemies to Friends, Film Noir, Gen, Jack Kelso - Freeform, Justice, Leonard Peterson - Freeform, Los Angeles, Murder, Murder Mystery, Private Investigators, References to Drugs, Roy Earle - Freeform, Stefan Bekowsky - Freeform, dirty cops, elsa Lichtmann - Freeform, la noire - Freeform, rock star video games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huffybearchild/pseuds/Huffybearchild, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanoah/pseuds/Nomanoah
Summary: With Cole Phelps dead it appears as though everything has returned back to its natural state of corruption.Jack Kelso in full swing with his new job as DA investigator may have the ability to take down the Vice Squad and bring justice to LA. The potential for danger may lead him to an unlikely alliance.





	1. Chapter 1

                                                                                   

Chapter One

The rain bore down mercilessly upon the heart of the city, pounding on the rooftops and turning the cobbled streets of the Downtown District into a warren of slick stones and muddy waters. Hard rain triggered memories of the night Cole Phelps was washed away, the terrored look in his eyes, mimicking that terrified stare the same man had on top of Sugar Loaf Hill. It was painful to think about, many of the men Jack Kelso served with were now dead. Cole’s death hit him especially hard, still thinking that perhaps had he done something different Jack could have spared the one good cop in the LAPD. 

The click of a lighter brought him back to reality. Where he stood beneath a canopy to protect himself from the rain. A man beside him taking a long drag of a recently lit cigarette turned his gaze to Jack. 

“We can’t go after the Suburban Redevelopment fund, Jack --” the man spoke, raising his voice over the downfall of rain and thunder overhead. 

Jack returned a skeptical, sideways glance, and his jaw tightened, 

“I mean no disrespect, Peterson,” Jack started out, doing his damnedest to keep his composure. “But this city is corrupted, and you’re keeping it that way with some lousy deal?” Jack spoke with disbelief and anger. “You’re collaborating with the very source you desperately wanted to stop, What would Cole Phelps think?” 

There was a long sigh, “You were one of the good ones. I thought that maybe you could stay that way.” Bitterness dripped from his tone, he was never really good at concealing how he was feeling. 

“You became the District Attorney, congratulations. Now what the hell are you going to do with that power, Leonard.” Cole’s death did nothing to change the town, hell with him alive they could have at least stood a chance against the corrupt cops, the mayor... if they were going to be able to do anything. If  **_he_ ** was going to be able to do anything, he’d have to get the new District Attorney back on his side. Which albeit is a lot easier said than done. 

“What did they promise you, Leonard?” Jack hissed out above the sound of rain and cars. Eyes glaring back at his recently promoted boss. “Was it money, power?”

Jack didn’t wait for an answer, staring down Peterson with a cold gaze full of distaste and distrust, “You and I both know this isn’t want you wanted. You can’t keep the lid on the drug cartel forever. If this city has  _ any _ chance, you need to take Mickey Cohen out of the picture, and you  know you need to bring down the Vice squad to do that.” 

“Kelso-” the man started, his previously lit cigarette, disposed for another. Flicking the lighter a few times before finally getting a decent flame. Obviously taken aback by Jack’s sudden outburst. 

Removing the cigarette slowly from his lips after taking a long smooth drag, “I can’t --” Peterson was immediately cut off by Jack,    


“Can’t, or won’t?” 

There was a long silence in between them, the sound of rain pattering against the plastic canopy filled the air between them. It felt as though the silence lasted for well over a few minutes, when in reality it was merely a couple seconds. 

“Even if I did want to help,” Leonard Peterson started again, now ignoring his previously lit cigarette that was held limp between two fingers. “I made a deal with them, if I go back on it now, who knows what will happen to me.” He shot Jack a hard look, dropping the cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his shoe, 

“Leonard, if we get enough dirt, you won’t need to worry about all that. All I want from you is your help. If I bring in the evidence, I need you to back me up.” It was now Jack’s turn to stare him down, “We don’t have to save the entire city, Leonard. But if we can fix what’s been wronged maybe that’ll give this city a push in the right direction.” Jack shuddered, taking a mental note that he needed to stop sounding like Cole Phelps. 

The silence returned from Leonard was enough for Jack to know that at least he could be reasoned with.

“We’ll take down Vice, and Mickey Cohen,” Jack Kelso placed a hand on Leonard’s shoulder, “maybe that will convince you to actually do your job.”    
  
“I’ll see you in the morning, Peterson,” with that Jack left heading through the rain to step into his car. The rain pounded on the roof as he looked at the time on his wrist watch, squinting in the dark, the only light came from the streetlight that flickered above him. It wasn’t too late, a stop by to check on Elsa seemed like the best way to end the night. 

Cole Phelps wasn’t his friend, but they certainly weren’t enemies. Elsa was a beautiful woman and Jack couldn’t bring himself to announce his feelings for her let alone try to be with her. She was Cole’s girl and he respected him and her too much for that. 

The Blue Room was just as the name implied, it was blue. Jack had only been there once or twice before, he wasn’t too fond of the atmosphere. It was however just his luck that Elsa was on stage singing by the time he had arrived. Which meant it would be awhile before he’d finally be able to talk to her. Letting out an exhausted sigh as he took a seat at a table after graciously being offered one by one of the servers. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, eyes scanning the club. About to return his attention back to Elsa, he spotted a familiar man; and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

Roy Earle. 

Their first interaction with one another, Jack had been taken into the back of Roy’s vehicle in front of his apartment like a common criminal, and needless to say their relationship didn’t take off in the right direction. 

By the looks of it, the Vice detective was a little preoccupied with something else to take notice of Jack sitting there. Taking a drink from the glass of scotch he had ordered, he watched the detective with a cool gaze, even more intrigued when a man approached him. Someone who didn’t fit into the atmosphere, something about him was off and Jack only grew more and more curious. 

The squeak off a bar stool and they were off, walking through the tables towards the back. Jack watched carefully as though not to be obviously watching them. They took a turn into the bathroom, and soon after a man came rushing out. Whose face was pale with fright, fingers barely finishing doing up the zipper on his pants. 

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, placing money on the table to pay for his drink. A quick smile to Elsa when she made eye contact before he followed after them. 

Maneuvering through the tables looked a whole lot easier when the two men had done it. Maybe due to Jack’s lack of sleep or the few drinks he had prior; but he managed to not bump into anyone’s table. Only near misses and quick apologies. However he didn’t make it too far when a loud bang went off. Like a car backfiring, but Jack knew better. And it was very apparent that the sound came directly from the bathroom where the man and Roy had entered not moments ago, his pursuing interrupted by screaming patrons as many of them made a mad dash for the exit. 

“Jesus christ, what the hell did he do?”

 

* * *

 

Roy swished the ice in his glass and took a swig. He grimaced tasting more water than alcohol. Since when had they started watering down the drinks? Regardless one thing was for certain, once a joint started killing the booze, it wasn’t long before the whole place went tits up.

He slid the empty glass down the bar.

“Hey Louis, another Manhattan, this time give it some backbone would ya?” Roy watched as the bartender nodded and topped up his drink.

“Here you go Mr. Earle”

Roy smiled but it held little warmth and less sincerity.

He Looked around and took in the idle chatter, he wasn’t sure when it had happened but the Blue Room had changed and it wasn’t just the watered down booze, but the mood as well.

Maybe the club had changed owners?

Whatever the reason he wasn’t used to being stuck on a bar stool. Normally they’d take him to a table, a nice dark corner with a good view of the stage. Roy Earle never got stiffed at any bar on the Hollywood strip, at least if they knew what was good for them.

If he planned on sticking around and kicking up his feet, he would’ve made damn sure Alfons got him his usual booth. However he wasn’t here to unload or relax, so the bar stool only seemed fitting for tonight’s visit.

“You Roy Earle?”

Roy swiveled around in his seat. “Depends who’s asking, I could be Carey Grant for all you know”

The man shifted on his feet, visibly thrown back by his retort. “Cut the crap, I put my neck on the chopping block to get here tonight”

“So you’re Ronnie Bednarski, the snitch” Roy placed his glass back on the bar, eyeing the man up again. “Sure as hell look like a rat”

“Would you shut your mouth!”The man hissed but his voice was hushed.

Roy rose and stood, his shoulders and head coming a few inches above the other man’s “ I’d watch yours Bednarski, a snitch is no good dead” He let the threat sink in and watched Ronnie’s pupils dilate. “You want to negotiate a deal? Let's go someplace private”

He led him away from the bar and through a path of zigzagging tables,a few glances were cast their way at their odd dynamic. But Roy kept his posture calm and confident as he swung open the men’s restroom door.

The room was empty with the exception of one locked stall, the last in the row. Roy discreetly leaned forward to find a pair of feet greeting him just beneath the door. He paused for a moment, than in one fully bodied motion, kicked the thing so hard it swung off its hinge. “Beat it chump”

It didn’t take long for the legs attached to the feet to scurry out of the now broken stall, fumbling with belt loops and zippers on their way out the bathroom door.

“Alright Bednarski, let's talk business”

“I know what you did with the broad”

Roy leaned against one of the porcelain sinks beside him. “What broad? There’s a hundred of them in this club tonight”

”You know exactly who I’m talking about Mr. Earle”Ronnie was pointing his finger now, inching closer and closer to Roy. “And I’ll bet you and and half of LAPD would pay a pretty penny to keep that dame under wraps”

“And what makes you think you can threaten me huh?” Roy straightened himself, squaring his shoulders as he did. “I wonder where you got the balls?”

But Ronnie didn’t back down, the shorter man clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. “Enough talk, you tell the rest of your boys that they better pay up or I’ll blow this whole thing wide open” “I want my money Mr. Earle”

Roy sneered and brought his hands up to the inside lining of his sport jacket. “It’s cute really that you’d think I’d stand here and listen you run your mouth, but to tell you the truth, I don’t give a damn”

“Don’t fuck me around, Roy!” Ronnie’s face contorted with anger as he suddenly launched his left fist at Roy, hooking him right in the jaw.

Instantaneous Roy felt the connection and stumbled back into the bathroom wall. His tongue swiped his lip feeling the split the punch had made. “You Rat son of a bitch” Without hesitation Roy drew his colt, aimed and pulled the trigger.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter two**

The club a whirlwind of chaos, it was nearly impossible for Jack to get a good grip of what had actually happened. Being shoved here and there by escaping patrons, like cattle with only one exit. Clutching his hat on his head so he wouldn’t lose it in the scuffle, he managed to press himself against the wall to wait as the crowd slowly dispersed out onto the street. All that remained in the club were half empty glasses of liquor and a few employees hiding behind the bars and tables.

Jack removed his gun from inside his jacket and moved slowly towards the bathroom, a hand resting on the door as he leaned in close to try and listen to see if there was anyone still inside. In one full movement he pushed the door open.

The scene laid out in the restroom was like straight out of a crime magazine. The door to one of the stalls was off its hinges and a body sprawled out on the tiled floor. A bullet wound letting in light on the left side of his torso. A shot straight to the heart, the man had died instantly. Upon further investigation this was the same man that had accompanied Roy. A closer inspection and Jack noticed blood on the man’s right knuckles. Unable to hide a smile, he couldn’t help but imagine this strange man punching Roy Earle straight in the face. Even if that was the strangers’ last mistake.

Jack lifted his head immediately, scanning the room for any sign of the the Vice detective, who appeared to have vanished into thin air, he couldn’t recall anyone leaving the bathroom. Or perhaps he was distracted by the mob of people streaming for the exit. Upon seeing no one else in the room, he returned his gun to his holster and leaving more confused than when he had entered.

Alfonz, the man who normally greeted people at the front doors approached Jack; one of the only workers in the club who wasn’t cowering in fear.

“Do you have a phone I could use?” Jack spoke, his question being answered with a quiet motion to a phone sitting against the wall near the entrance to the club.

“I already called the police,” he spoke cooly while folding his arms over his chest.

“You have? Good.” Flashing a backwards glance back to the washroom before returning his gaze to the Blue Room employee, “I wouldn’t go in there, mac.”

It wasn’t long before the LAPD arrived, however the few cops that showed up hardly seemed surprised that there was a murder in the Blue Room. It was the least of their concern that some drugged up coloured folks were going up and killing one another. Jack had given his statement and left.

The morning after didn’t feel so great, Los Angeles was still a cruel and merciless place and there was absolutely nothing Jack could do about it without some help. After his little escapade before Cole died he wasn’t exactly the most favourable among the police force. It was times like this is really missed Cole’s ‘can do’ attitude.

Jack didn’t live in the nicest apartment, it was good enough for him however. It was small, perfect for one person. The apartment building itself was in an okay area in Hollywood and his neighbours weren’t too loud or annoying. A sharp pain right above his eyes reminded him of just how much he had to drink the night before. Curtains were drawn in to let in that bright California sun. Jack hadn’t been able to sleep in since the military, and he certainly didn’t need an alarm clock to wake him up. Normally waking up at the same time every morning, a bright and early 6am.

Sleeping certainly didn’t come easy to him, especially after returning home. Courtney’s doctor friend called it, PTSD. Jack Kelso wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed, he was not as far gone as Ira had been. All he knew was that it’s a whole lot easier staying up all night than to close your eyes and relive those memories. Getting a good night’s rest was near impossible without being entirely exhausted.

After a long stretch and a crack of his neck he wandered to the bathroom. He found himself spending a good half hour standing motionless under scalding hot water, letting it wash away the sleepless night.  
  
A suit and tie was proper uniform to go anywhere in L.A, to be seen without one would be near blasphemous. Pulling on a white undershirt button up, he looked at himself in the foggy mirror. A scar still etched into his cheek, a mark he was pretty sure would never fully heal.

Letting out a tired yawn, he acquired the rest of his clothing. Opting for a grey suit rather than his blue one that he had grown so fond of. After the tunnels he couldn't bare to wear it, so it sat untouched at the back of his closet. Finishing the look with a purple tie - a gift from one of his sister's. He grabbed his hat and made for the exit.

Last night he knew he didn’t get through to Leonard Peterson, but today was a new day and if there was one thing Jack was known for its not giving up.

At the very least all he wanted was help from him, take down Mickey Cohen. Way too many corpsman died at his hand and Jack would be damned if he didn't do something about it. Mickey Cohen was untouchable with the LAPD in their pocket, and Jack planned on changing that.

The outside light was blinding the moment he stepped out of the apartment building. As was the usual for ‘Sunny sunny California,’ he could already hear the radio hosts in their all too upbeat tune. The world outside was very deceiving, so mundane. Kids heading to school, husband's heading off to jobs. Wives starting their morning chores. Hell, had Jack not gotten out of Fire and Life insurance he might have shot himself in the head.

The DA’s office was a big building a few blocks away from the police station. To Jack it felt like he was walking straight into a bear trap. He hadn’t exactly made the best impression on the chief of police and spotting his car in the lot only made him sink further into his seat. He was however still the DA’s investigator so of course he had every right to be there. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone who locked eyes with him wanted him dead. Holding his head high and spirits higher, he checked in at the front desk and made his way up the steps to the new district attorney's office, where Leonard Peterson sat waiting for him.

“Good morning, Kelso. Close the door behind you,” Leonard greeted with what sounded like an exhausted sigh. Not something from lack of sleep, but something that felt a little more like Leonard found that his conversations with Jack Kelso were getting tedious.

Jack returned his greeting with a cocked eyebrow as he shut the door behind him and walked towards the desk.

“Have you come to your senses yet, Peterson” Jack asked cooly as he sat down in the seat across from Leonard’s desk,

“You’re an idealist, Jack.”  
  
“And you’re a piece of shit, I wonder which is worse,” Jack shot back furrowing his eyebrows. Peterson was on the breaking point,

“I don’t have a choice anymore, Jack.”

“No. You’ve always had a choice,” Jack huffed out sitting back in his chair, dark eyes glaring at the man in front of him.

Peterson and Kelso were used to long silences by now. Each looking each other up and down like two animals ready to pounce. Unfortunately for Leonard, Kelso wouldn’t back down. The silence lasted for another few moments before Leonard Peterson let out a defeated sigh, plopping down in his chair across from Kelso and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay fine. I’ll do what I can, but listen-” Leonard started as he made hard eye contact with the D.A investigator. “I can’t do anything about the Vice cops until we have hard substantial evidence against them. It’s near impossible to break through them without help from the public. This. Goes. Deep, Jack. We need to cover all the bases.”

Leonard continued, “I can’t do much, but I’ll partner you up with a Vice detective. You don’t have to tell them why you’re there. They need all the help they can get right now so it shouldn’t be suspicious,” Peterson rose his eyebrows as he pulled out some case files to spread out in front of Jack.

Dozens of women have been turning up dead and the LA police department needed help. Grabbing the case folders and looking up to Peterson, Jack flashed a smile. “Thank you, Leonard,” in unison they stood up, Jack held out his hand and the other man reached forward to grab it in a firm handshake.

Call it what you will, retribution, revenge, heroism; but this was the beginning of an entirely new chapter in Jack’s life.

When he walked into the LAPD offices in Hollywood he expected the side eyes and cold glares from some of the officers and detectives. However when he reached the Vice office and was told by Archie Colmyer who he’d be partnered with. His heart sank. Standing at the front desk beside Archie was an all too familiar face.

* * *

 

Sun peaked in through parted curtains spilling onto Roy’s face. With heavy lidded eyes he rolled over to his nightstand and read the time.

7:26am

He flopped back onto his side grunting with annoyance, the alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. There were few times he could remember waking up before eight, but most of them ended with hastily getting dressed and a back door shuffle.

He sat up, scratching his face and feeling the prickle of stubble. He’d have to deal with that before showing up at the office.

Tossing the sheets to the empty side of the bed Roy stood, stretching he felt an ache in his jaw.

“Fucker really packed a punch,” Same fucker was also dead, he thought stepping over discarded clothes and into the bathroom.

In the mirror he examined his face, his bottom lip had been cut open, but there was no bruises or swelling. He’d have to count his lucky stars next time before getting into a row with some shitheel rat.

After shaving and cleaning up, he grabbed a suit and matching tie. Somewhat returning to his pristine self, he reached for his brown oxfords, but noted the blood spatter on the vamps and toe caps. “Well, black pair it is,”

The drive over was uneventful and somewhat tedious. He had to battle his way through morning traffic, laying on the horn thick when some numb skull cut him off. Perhaps he should be thankful for his early rise, otherwise he may have actually been late.

The lieutenant had consistently joked with him about how he was never tardy, and yet never showed up to the station prematurely. Somehow he always managed to get by with being ‘right on time’ and that suited him just fine. 

Turning into the station he wasn’t surprised to find the parking lot packed. Typical, he thought pulling into his spot and shutting off the engine.

The department had been swamped since Vice started working closely with the Homicide detectives.

Some dames had been turning up dead, all in a similar fashion, but Roy wasn’t convinced there was any correlation. It wasn’t unusual to find a girls body dumped in an alley, ditch or empty lot; he wondered if somehow half the LAPD had forgotten this.

Nonetheless, he’d have to spend the next few weeks crammed in between full desks with a bunch of detectives that were wasting their time.

“Morning Roy,”

“Eddie,” “Give me the news.”

The tan man took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking the bud onto the concrete. “Caps got us running around like mad dogs,” “I haven’t seen the place this stuffed since that Tijuana dope made it across the border,”

Roy remembered that, it took them a solid two months to bust the drug cartel, and even longer to round up all the displaced Heroin.

“Even worse, I got partnered up with some dec from homicide,” “buddy couldn’t hit water if he fell out a fucking boat,” Eddie scowled and dug through his pockets, hoping to find relief in another cigarette, but the pack was empty. “Suppose we better get in there.”

“Suppose we should,” sighed Roy following a few others filing through the doors and up the stairs.

“Earle, Powell, how nice of you to join us,” The lieutenant’s arms were folded tightly across his chest. “Pick a binder and sit down,” his tone was short as he motioned toward the mammoth pile of files spread across his desk.

He didn’t so much as glance at the folders before swiping one up and heading for his desk.

“Hold it right there, Roy.”

“What is it Colmyer, can’t you see I’ve got work to do,” Roy waved the manila folder in the lieutenant’s face, rolling his eyes in the process.

“I want you to meet your new partner,” “Mr. Kelso you’ll be working with LA’s finest, the one and only, Roy Earle.”    

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is expedition, but it's leading up to some spicy boys. Without the sour the sweet just ain't so sweet. Am I right or amiright.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

 

There were very few things in life that made Roy Earle uncomfortable, but this; this had to be up there with getting caught with his pants around his ankles.  
  
By some cruel twist of fate, a few inches away from him was, Jack Kelso.  
  
The two of them hadn’t said a word to each other since their utter bombshell of a reunion. Glancing at him now, it looked like the DA’s investigator had no plans to.

It was at that point, Jack was sure the LAPD was out to get him. Partnering him up with perhaps one of the most arrogant assholes he’d ever come across. Fate was a cruel, merciless bitch and she was all too willing to fuck with Jack Kelso.

After they had been briefed, Colmyer gave them the address of where the most recent Jane Doe was found. They took the directions and headed out to the car park in stunned silence, neither one of them willing to acknowledge the other.

Jack was never very good small talk, especially for someone who he held little to no respect for. Casting a side-eye at his partner, who had reluctantly watched him pull open the door and slide into the passenger seat of his Cadillac.

_Just great,_ Roy thought tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He was going to be having words with the schmuck that had set this one up.

The D.A’s investigator was not entirely familiar with murder cases, or vice cases for that matter. But he’d be damned if he’d let Roy know that.

Straightening himself in the leather seat he cleared his throat, “So, what exactly are we up against,”

Roy cocked a brow but his eyes never left the road, “Just another dead hump, nothing new,” he paused as they crossed through the intersection. “You’d think you’d know that by now,”  
  
Lips pursed, Jack held a narrowing stare. Biting back a retort he turned his head away from the driving detective. Jack had learned long ago when to pick his battles, especially when it wasn't your hands on the wheel.  
  
The vehicle came to a halt at the far edge of a currently closed, clothing store. LAPD cruisers sat idling, a few officers formed a barricade protecting the scene from onlooking pedestrians. It was nearly 10:30am which meant the streets would be busy and reporters would be heading down to get what little information the crime scene would offer. The coroner's vehicle was present, which meant Mal Carruthers was already on the scene. This wasn’t the first body that had shown up, and judging by how thick the case files were, Jack had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t going to be the last.  
  
“Morning Mal.”  

Jack noted the lack of genuity in Roy’s greeting, more than anything it just seemed like routine or a formality.  
  
Mal greeted the two approaching detectives with a nod of his head,  
  
“Detectives--” he started as his eyes glanced from Roy to Jack, his gaze looking the new detective over carefully, “Are you from homicide?” Mal asked curiously with a slight furrow of his eyebrows. His question answered quickly, with Jack stepping forwards to introduce himself with an out-stretch of his arm for a polite handshake,  
  
“Jack Kelso, D.A’s investigator. I’m joining Earle on this case,” his hand was met with Carruther’s before the coroner’s attention returned back to the Jane Doe,  
  
“The body was found early this morning by a patrolling officer, though from her temperature I’d say she was killed around midnight.”  
  
“Alright we get it, she’s dead awhile,”   
  
Jack shot the senior detective an incredulous look, “This is a crime scene Earle, shouldn’t a detective take this more seriously,”  
  
“You want to go solve the murder be my guest, but you’re footing the bill if I get any more damn blood on my shoes,” Roy motioned towards the corpse. “After you, partner.”  
  
The body seemed almost as if it had been discarded carelessly, sprawled out on the asphalt. She looked average enough, with dark brown hair that was matted with dirt and blood. The woman’s eyes were splayed open, pupils clouded and distant as they stared lifelessly at nothing. Blood coated her upper lip and nose, traces of a white powder evident around the nostrils. Jack shot a look to the coroner,  
  
“Cocaine, from a glance I’d assume an overdose was the cause of death. But I have to do further testing to be completely sure,”  
  
“Broad couldn’t hold her dope,” “I’ve seen plenty of that.”   
  
Jack ignored Roy’s comment, it appeared like the man had more than just a little indifference towards women. Returning his attention back to the dead body, he was unable to shake an uncomfortable feeling.  
  
Seeing a dead body wasn't troubling to him. Hell, he had seen a lot worse overseas. But the victim was barely clothed, and what little she had didn't leave much to the imagination.  
  
Crouching down beside her Jack gently rolled her head to the side to further investigate. Two prominent marks etched into the crook of her neck.  
  
They were somewhat shaped as letters, however messily done with what Jack could have assumed was just a simple knife. If he had to guess the letters appeared to be an “A” and “P,” He jotted this information down in his notebook.  “Do you know what these marks mean, Carruthers?”  
  
“They could mean almost anything” “judging from the scaring it looks like they were carved weeks before she died,” the coroner paused briefly as he knelt down beside Jack. “very unusual,”  
  
“Did these markings show up on any of the other victims?” Jack questioned the coroner with a sideways glance at Roy who scoffed,  
  
“Did you even read the case files?”  
  
“Probably more than you did,” Jack shot back,  
  
“Gentleman enough of the wisecracks,  I’ll take this evidence back to the lab. I’ll have KGPL get in contact with you when I have the results.”  
  
The two nodded, Roy turned on his heels with Jack following shortly behind him,“So where does this leave us?” the younger detective asked,  
  
“There are a few men that have connections to that kind of dope, and even fewer that have that kind of supply,” Roy swung the drivers side door open, not waiting for his partner  
  
“And just what are you suggesting?”

“I say we drop in on Mickey Cohen,”

Jack had only ever had one encounter with the man, and it hadn’t exactly ended well. “Is that smart?”

“Scared Kelso?”

Climbing and settling into the passenger seat Jack sighed, “No. I’m not. There are far worse things than Mickey Cohen.”

“I can name six,”  
  
Jack rolled his eyes, gripping the side of the convertible as Roy’s foot dropped on the gas, speeding them passed stopped cars through an obviously red light.

Heart racing as Jack looked back at honking cars and screaming pedestrians throwing their fists. Nearly coming in a head on collision, he returned his attention to his driver who was hardly fazed by his recklessness.

“Are you out of your mind? Do all LAPD detectives drive like animals?” He huffed, holding onto his hat so it wouldn’t fly off with the sudden burst of speed.   

There was no response from the vice detective, only the slightest of smirks played and pulled at his upper lip.

“Is that how you managed to drive that prostitute out of town?”

The car jerked, wheels squealing as they took a hard left. If Jack had not been buckled in he probably would have been thrown out of his seat and onto the pavement.

“What the hell, Roy!”

“Now you listen to me shitheel, you ever bring that whores name up again and I’ll crack your head on the sidewalk, you hear me?”

When the large unlit neon sign of the Three Diamond Door club came into view, there was a long silence between the two,

“Duly noted.” Jack cleared his throat, fixing his tie as he recomposed himself.

“Now come on we have work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll want something to tide you over until the next chapter. Check out this mock trailer.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mg93Fqjp-3U&feature=youtu.be


End file.
